


Hope

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: 1931, the stock market has crashed and life is hard, but hey, at least there's the circus.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Hope

1931

Dean whips his hat off, smooths the sides of his hair, and then tugs his flat cap back down low on his forehead. He shouldn’t be here. He feels a little guilty about it—about the fact that he’s already been to the circus two nights in a row this week—but he can’t help it. There’s not enough work to go around, and though he does his best and usually keeps his head down, there’s only so much work he can get digging ditches. And there’s only so much misery he can take before he has to find some relief. 

Unfortunately for him, relief looks like bright blue eyes under a shock of wild, dark hair. He’s strong and sure, and there’s something absolutely captivating about him, something brilliant and gorgeous about the way he looks when he flies from one side of the room to the other on a wire that doesn’t look like it should be able to support his weight. 

Dean doesn’t know his name, but he wants to. 

He’d been digging ditches when the troupe came through—toting tents and poles and all manner of other spectacle—and he’d stopped for a moment to watch as people lined the streets to see them come through. It was amusing, the bright colors and unusual animals bringing a semblance of excitement to their otherwise drab, little town. He wished Sammy could have been around to see it, but he’d been sent to stay with an uncle of theirs while things were tight, and Dean was doing his best to save up to bring him home. He was just about to turn back to his work when he saw him. 

He carried a coil of thick rope over one shoulder, and held the hand of a young, equally dark-haired girl, as they walked. They were a bit ahead of some of the others, though where she grinned and waved, he looked almost puzzled. Dean nearly dropped his shovel when he saw him, and had to fumble to keep it upright. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the man.

He’d gone, after work, to watch them set up, in hopes of catching another glimpse of him. Even as his feet had carried him to the circus grounds, he knew he was being ridiculous, but there was nothing waiting for him at home except bread that was too dry, and a room that was too drafty, and so he’d given in to the impulse. 

The performance site was oddly bright, apparently illuminated by an assortment of lamps and torches. People were moving all over the place, in seemingly senseless directions—like so many black ants, scurrying about in ways Dean had no knowledge of—but right before his eyes, poles were being erected and seating constructed. It was a marvelous sight to behold. 

No one noticed him, and he’d watched for a while, hovering at the edge of the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man from the street again. Eventually, he had to tell himself that he was being ridiculous, acting like some starry-eyed kid, when he should have been back a long time ago. He needed to be up early the next morning. 

“Do you usually stare at strangers from the shadows? Is that customary in this town?” 

Dean tried not look as startled as he felt when he turned around and came face-to-face with exactly the person he’d been hoping to clap eyes on all night. He was temporarily dumbstruck—completely speechless as he took in the lean figure, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes bright blue, even in the darkness. He had a faint accent, one Dean couldn’t place—he’d never been anywhere else before—but one he was certain wasn’t American. 

“I, uh...” Dean tried. His throat felt suddenly dry. It probably had something to do with the way he knew everything from his chest up felt like it was burning. 

The handsome stranger tilted his head and squinted at him, like he wasn’t sure what to make of Dean’s inability to form a coherent thought.

“I- I was curious, is all,” Dean managed finally, his eyes falling along the open collar of the man’s shirt and his rolled-up sleeves. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, “Never been to the circus before. Thought I’d come by and see what’s what. I’ve seen, and now I’m going.”

“Have you? We’ve not yet finished setting up. You must come to the show.” The stranger stared at him, those eyes of his seeming to see through whatever defense Dean might have been able to draw up for himself. 

“Maybe. We’ll see. Probably not. Doesn’t look so interesting after all.” Dean felt hot and uncomfortable, and he wanted to disappear. This hadn’t been what he’d hoped for. He hadn’t meant to be found out, certainly not by this man.

“I insist,” he said. “It’s rare, we’re staying for the week. Plenty of opportunity. Come if you have the time.” He smiled faintly. “I think you won’t regret it.”

Dean had made his excuses and gone. He felt nervous and wrong-footed, and he could hardly say that the real reason he had come was to gawk at the man. He was stupid to have come at all, and he would have done well to put the entire ordeal from his mind and focus on things that mattered, like the odds that he’d be chosen for the ditch-crew again the next day. 

Of course, he hadn’t been able to keep himself from him. Curiosity or desire overruled reason, and he had gone to the show. As he’d never been to a circus before, he hadn’t known what to expect when he’d handed the strangely dressed man outside the building the performers had constructed his nickel. He’d gone in and found a seat near the back, not especially keen to draw any undue attention to himself. There were couples and families with children there, though they certainly didn’t fill all of the seats, and he felt a little out of place. He’d have brought Sam if he’d been able to. He felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he’d spent money he should have been saving to get him back home with him on something so frivolous. 

When the show started, Dean found himself totally entertained, laughing when the clowns executed ridiculous pratfalls or told bawdy jokes, and gasping at the more perilous stunts, like fire swallowing and blind knife throwing. It was the first time in a long time that he had managed to forget the growling of his empty stomach or the back-breaking misery of digging ditches in the sun for pennies a day. In his rapture, he had also nearly forgotten all about the beautiful stranger he’d seen—the reason he’d come in the first place—which made it all the more breathtaking to see him standing at the top of a high platform when the ringmaster introduced the high-flying trapeze act. 

He’d never seen anything like it before in his life. The highest he’d ever gotten off the ground was climbing trees to impress Sam. The trapeze act was so far from anything like that, he wasn’t sure how to wrap his mind around it. The thought of being any higher than a tall tree actually made him a bit woozy. There were three of them, two men, and a young woman, all dark haired, all beautiful, though Dean picked out the man from the road without any trouble. They took turns flying, swinging from ropes, flipping and catching one another in a way that made it look easier than walking. They couldn’t have made it look any more natural if they’d had actual wings themselves. They seemed to belong to the sky. 

The stunts robbed Dean of breath, and by the end of the show, he could scarcely bring himself to leave the place.

And so he’d gone back the next night, and upon seeing the beautiful flyer, and feeling his heart nearly punch through his chest when the man executed a flawless maneuver where he went from swinging from his chin to flipping from the bar and catching the arms of the other young man, Dean realized that he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least learn his name.

He decided to wait. 

He shuffled around until the crowd cleared, and then stood outside the place he’d seen the performers pass by the night before. 

And now he’s here, fidgeting with his hat, hoping to catch the guy just long enough to ask his name. Because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to fall asleep tonight if he doesn’t at least do that. He barely managed it the night before, and his dreams were rife with images of a lovely trapeze artist with full lips and strong arms. 

Dean doesn’t have to wait too long. He comes out a little behind the others, the straps of his leotard pulled down, so that he’s bare to the waist. The sight makes Dean’s heart trip all over the inside of his rib cage, and he has to remind himself to breathe as he steps out of the shadows to make himself known.

“You were fantastic,” he says in a rush. He can feel the flush in his face as he tries to avoid allowing his eyes to linger anywhere too long, but instead just ends up being pinned by that too-blue gaze. 

The trapeze artist looks mildly puzzled for a moment, before recognition dawns on his features and he smiles warmly, “You’re the skulker.” 

Dean likes the sound of his voice, the deep rumble of it, and soft, lilting accent, but it doesn’t cut the embarrassment he feels at the title. “Dean,” he says, to save face. “My name’s Dean. Have you got one? A name, I mean. In there they just called you ‘The Thrilling Three,’ or something.” 

His face darkens a bit, and Dean fears that he’s already said the wrong thing. 

“Yes,” he says. “I told them it was a stupid name. But my siblings aren’t especially creative, and Chuck likes ‘the ring of it,’” he rolls his eyes. “Likes us to seem united.” 

“Chuck?” Dean asks, because he can’t help himself. He could listen to him talk all night. 

“The ringmaster,” he says. He sighs, “My name is Castiel. Come, I need to change.” He strides off across the camp, and doesn’t bother waiting for Dean to argue. 

Of course, he follows him. He’s going to take whatever he can get for as long as he can get it, because the money’s spent, and if he’s delaying Sam’s return, he might as well make it worth his while. 

There’s a small tent at the edge of the camp, and Castiel holds the flap aside so Dean can go in, before he follows after him and ties it shut from the inside. Dean can hear lively chatter just a few yards off, rowdy voices around a campfire, and shadows dance along the tent walls as Castiel lights a couple of lamps without the aid of any other light source, as though he’s really only doing it for Dean’s benefit. 

There’s a pallet off to one side, a wash basin just across from it on a stand with a mirror, next to a trunk. The simplicity of it reminds Dean of his own small apartment, only it feels somehow much more luxurious than his shabby residence. Castiel starts by washing his face, taking up a neatly folded flannel and pouring water from the basin’s jug onto it. 

Dean is at a loss, and he sits on the pallet, and tries not to feel too terribly awkward about the fact that Castiel is watching him through the mirror. 

“So you liked the show?” He asks, as he pulls the flannel over the back of his neck, behind his ears. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “I’ve never seen anything like it before. I uhm,” he flushes a bit, and averts his eyes briefly, “came last night too. I just had to see you-” he closes his eyes hard at the slip of his tongue, “-it again. The whole thing. It’s a spectacle. Amazing. Have you- have you always done this for a living?” 

Castiel has moved on to scrubbing the sweat from his chest, and Dean’s eyes drift down for a moment in the mirror before he remembers himself and pulls his hat from his head again to give himself something else to focus on. 

Castiel tilts his head, nods, “More or less. My family is a circus family. We have done little else since the circus began. My great-grandfather bred horses for the first major circus in Hungary. One of my sisters, you probably saw her, does the trick riding. The rest of us, trapeze. But tell me, what is it you do?” 

“Nothing much,” Dean says, and he feels a twinge of shame. He’s been ‘nothing much’ for most of his life. “Before the crash, I was… at a factory, but it shut down pretty quickly. And then, there was some brick-laying and odd jobs, but no one much is building things these days. I’ve been digging ditches for now. It’s not much, but it’s enough for me to save a little bit if I keep things slim.”

“You want to save, but you say you’ve come here two nights,” Castiel says as he rises from his stool. “The circus suffers when the public suffers. Most do not have the luxury to come at all. I’m sure you noticed the sparse crowd.” 

Dean feels himself draw back just a little, the space inside the tent isn’t very large, and he’s jumpy at the fact that he’s somehow managed to get so close to someone so beautiful. “I was curious,” Dean says defensively. 

Castiel looks amused, smiles, “You wanted to see ‘what’s what?’” He strips out of what’s left of his clothes, folds them, then sets them aside before he continues to wash himself, seemingly unconcerned by his own nudity.

Dean has seen his fair share of unclothed men, swimming or changing at the factory, and he’s learned to stamp out his impulses over so many years, but he can’t help the heat the creeps up his neck when he sees Castiel move to wash himself so unabashedly, or when their eyes meet in the mirror for the briefest of moments. He forces his eyes to look anywhere but at the mirror, or at the far more tempting, exposed buttocks of his host. 

“I just liked it, is all,” he says, finally deciding to fix his eyes on the hat between his own hands. “It’s not like there’s much fun to be had these days. I figured I might as well. Nothing for me at home right now. I had to send my younger brother away for his own good.” 

Castiel dries himself with a new cloth, and wraps himself in a robe pulled from the trunk, before he reclines on one arm next to Dean on the pallet. “The circus is dying,” he says softly. “Even this, so many shows in one place is unusual. But one of our elephants has been sick, and we must stay a few days to see if we can recoup some of the cost. Ordinarily, we would be gone by now. Like magic, here one night, gone the next. This is how the circus retains life, mystery. People do not want what they can have any day of the week.” He tilts his head to see Dean better, “So, I’m glad you liked us enough to see us twice. Even if only because you have no one at home. I’m not sure there’s much use for us these days.” 

Dean looks over at him, and though his heart is pounding, and every one of his internal alarm bells is ringing, he doesn’t look away. Up close, he can see the lines in Castiel’s face, the soft light of the lamps illuminating his age—still young, but already many years a man. There’s stubble at his jaw, and Dean wants to run his fingers through that thick, dark hair of his. “Hope,” he says, suddenly, his voice strained. He licks his lips and tries again, “The use of the circus is hope. I figure. Things are terrible for a lot of people right now, but you can make them forget, for just a little while, how bad things are.” Dean can feel the twists in his stomach, the desire and the danger there, and he knows that he should excuse himself and go back home. He should forget he’d ever set eyes on the man next to him. “You can make people remember that it might not be bad forever.” His knuckles are white on his cap, and the poor thing is never going to find its proper shape again. 

Castiel smiles almost lazily, “You make us sound like saints. Like angels.” He reaches out and lets his hand settle on top of Dean’s wrist, draws his fingers down over his knuckles as he leans forward, “I like the way you see it though. You remind me of why I like flying.”

He sits back just a little, and Dean can’t stop himself, he closes the space between them. If he’s only going to have one chance at this, then he’s going to take it, risks and all. 

When he pulls away, there’s part of him that’s ready to bolt and hope that Castiel can forget what he’s done, and there’s part of him that’s ready to lean in and do it again, and the indecision holds him in place. He doesn’t move, just stares into ocean-blue eyes and prays. 

“And how did you like your taste of hope?” Castiel asks, his hand coming up to cup Dean’s jaw. There’s a small smile playing at his lips, and his thumb strokes Dean’s cheek. 

Relief breaks over him. “The bee’s knees,” Dean manages. “I’d like to try it again. Just- just to make sure I like it,” he says. 

Castiel chuckles, and Dean grins back at him.

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” Castiel pulls him in again, and this time there isn’t any uncertainty between them. 

Dean knows the score, knows how these things work, knows that Castiel will go when the circus goes, and he’ll probably never see him again. But he doesn’t stop himself. He feels good for a change, feels like he could forget the way his body aches more than it should after a long day of work, or that his stomach is never full, and that most of the world is miserable. He’ll take his hope where he can get it, and right now, Castiel’s mouth on his, the way he leans back and opens his robe just for him, feels like hope distilled, and maybe, if he drinks enough of it, it’ll tide him through the worst of his bad days for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this one a little late, but still on time! It's short, but I still tried to build a world and give a feel for what I had in my head. I just really had a difficult time writing anything at all this week. So, that said, this is probably the last one I'll do in this series, unless I feel especially inspired and decide to do one of the bonus ones. I've been distracted with life stuff recently, so I don't want to make myself write if my brain is asking for a break. Hopefully, you still liked this one, and if you did, like any of the others, there's always a chance that I might revisit it and decide to flesh it out if I ever have a bit more time on my hands. Maybe Dean runs away with the circus! Or maybe Cas runs away from the circus (and Chuck 😧)! The possibilities are endless. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you're all still keeping safe!


End file.
